Strange Feathers
by Lovely Little Oakley
Summary: I've been trying to look on the bright side of life since my last accident, and I've been doing pretty well. But as always there's something-someone-in the way of my happiness whether it's memories of my runaway older brother or flashbacks of my dead parents and now it's the idiotic son of my host family. Yeah. Being the only foreign exchange student this year is gonna blow. (A/U)


**Summary**: I've been trying to look on the bright side of life since my last accident, and I've been doing pretty well. But as always there's something-someone-in the way of my happiness whether it's memories of my runaway older brother or flashbacks of my dead parents and now it's the idiotic son of my host family. Yeah. Being the only foreign exchange student this year is gonna blow.

**Disclaimer**: Sadly for SasuNaru fans and fortunately for Narutards everywhere, I do not own Naruto or any Naruto related characters whom are copyrighted to Masashi Kishimoto. I am in no way affiliated with said mangaka and this work of fiction is strictly fan-created.

**Contains**: Suicidal thoughts, self-mutilation, homosexual affairs (yaoi and possibly some yuri), out-of-character (OOC) behavior, explicit sex scenes, swearing, violence, drug-use, alcohol-use, and other suggestive themes. Viewer discretion is advised.

**-**Now that that's over with, hey there! Welcome to Strange Feathers! I created this story partially because I love writing fanfiction, partially because Naruto has become the center of my attention for the past couple of weeks, and partially because of previous fanfiction that made me so unhappy that I felt the need to write my own story just to feel at ease with them. Also, I am trying to write as many chapters as possible (say, three a week) that way I can stay ahead of myself. So when exams, testing, or just pure writer's block comes along and slaps me in the face, you guys won't be left hanging.

**-**Speaking of chapters and staying ahead of myself, updates will be every Thursday because who doesn't love Thursdays? I know you all are probably used to updates on fun days like Fridays and Saturdays, however I feel like Thursdays are better because they're so close to Wednesdays and Wednesdays suck, therefore an update of your new, favorite fanfiction on a gloomy Thursday will hopefully cheer you up.

-If I place an asterisk (*) before a word or phrase, it means I'll define/explain it at the end of the chapter.

-One last thing before I begin, I am an amateur writer. I am actually sixteen. Don't let age fool you, though! I've been writing since Pre-K. Nonetheless, sometimes my style gets off and awkward and sometimes I make grammatical mistakes (as of now, I do not have a beta) so please, please excuse any errors. Other than that, please, enjoy the story. :)

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><p>Sometimes the only way to find yourself is to lose yourself completely. I don't know if I believe this quote to its full extent, but whatever. As I cling tightly to the black, plastic handle of my leather suitcase and endeavor to relax to the unnerving dub step beats blasting into my ears at a deafening volume, I board United Airways-a plane whose company I've trusted for ages-and repeat the quote in my mind over and over again until my suitcase is in the carry-on compartment above my seat and I feel nauseated and I've mixed up the word order of the only inspiration I've ever been able to make myself believe.<p>

I've got the window seat and, this time, I'm actually glad. This way I can say my goodbyes to my beloved country of Japan.

Just as I'm about to take my earphones out, a heavy set man flops down in the seat beside me. He reeks of fish and dirt and I have to bite my tongue to prevent myself from hurting his feelings, but come on! Who goes out in public smelling that way? Does he have no shame? Sure, maybe I shouldn't be so hypercritical. Perhaps the man just got off work and would miss his flight if he showered before he came, but still. Public indecency, to me, is rude.

I sigh for what feels like the hundredth time already. Then, miraculously, there's movement below and the plane begins cruising towards its designated runway. Instantly, goosebumps appear on my arms and a chill runs down my spine. The first five minutes of flying are always the worst. Keeping my eyes squeezed shut, I count down the seconds until the plane accelerates, lifts it's nose upwards into the air, and takes off for the sky. My death grip on my arm rest doesn't ease until the plane is flying smoothly.

Beside me, the heavy set man is chuckling. "Got a little fear of flights, do ya?" he says in Japanese.

I take a deep breath and smile slightly. "Eh, something like that," I respond in an edgy voice. To some, his question might come off as nosy or offensive, but me being who I am, I'm not easily offended nor angered. I like to take everything is stride. Life's easier that way; safer.

The man grins and shakes his head in what looks like pity. "I feel ya...Used to be like that myself when I was about your age." Then he wipes his meaty hand down his face-a sign of fatigue.

I consider not responding to him in hopes that he will get some sleep. Only God knows what he has to do when our plane lands in Los Angeles, California in the next ten hours. However, his statement has piqued my interest. "Oh, really?" I say, not challenging him. "How'd you get over your fear?"

The man is silent for a long while and I think he's fallen asleep, but then his head snaps over to me and he mutters, "Experience," before he faces the back of the seat in front of him and his head head drops and he's snoring.

I snort to myself and carefully allow my eyes to look out the window. Below me I see the vague outline of Japan, a world of twinkling lights in a black field.

As I shut the window blind and feel my body drift off to sleep, I wonder if there's anyone else out there who feels as utterly alone as I do.

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><p>I'm awoken with a start as the plane lands clumsily on its runway at world-famous, L.A.X. Its crazy to think that I'm here, in America, so soon. Its crazy to think that in the next ten minutes I'll be anxiously manuevering through a crowd of unfamiliar faces and more racial diversity than I've seen in my life. Its crazy to think that everyone will be speaking a language that I'm absolutely wretched at and that I'll look desperate as I shift through the crowd to find my host family for this year, but I know I must do it. I have to be strong. I have to be brave. I have to be-<p>

"Say-soo-kay Uhh-chi-hah?"

What. The. Fuck.

I slowly turn in my seat so that I'm facing the source where that petrifying pronunciation of my name came from partly because I want to stare him down to his death and partly because I know he's my fast-lane ticket off this damn plane and-there. At the front of the plane, four rows before me is an awkward looking man with thick, black eyebrows, large black eyes, and dark hair cropped in a bowl cut just above his ears. You have got to be kidding me.

The man's eyes scan the stupefied passengers on the plane and when he meets my bewildered glare, he smiles. "Are...You...Say-soo-kay?"

I may not be fluent in English, shit, I'm not even good at it, but I know enough to where this fucking moron doesn't have to ask me questions as if I'm from special ed.

Standing abruptly with my thin shoulders back and my narrow chin up, I scoot past the heavy set man (he's still knocked out cold) and I face bushy brows. "My name is _Sah-skay_," I say, then cringe. My accent is thick and sounds weird when I speak English.

Bushy nods quickly and holds out his hand for me to shake. Somewhere in the back of the plane a lady yells out in English, "We don't have time for this," but Bushy ignores her and says, "I am Might Gai. Its..." I don't understand what he says after that.

Feeling sheepish, I nod, smile tightly, and reach up into the top compartment for my luggage. As soon as the mini-door goes up, however, three small duffel bags fall out.

"*_Kutabare_!" I hell to no one in particular.

A lady shrieks from beside me about how much time she spent putting her backs in my compartment so that they wouldn't fall out and how I was a bastard and it took everything in me to not turn around the tell her to shut the fuck up.

In the end, Bushy Brows-I'm sorry-_Guy_, helps me get my luggage down (why are Americans so tall?) and walks me off the plane although I really never needed his help to begin with.

We walk through the international section of L.A.X. and it's just as confusing and frightening as I expected it to be and more. Some people stare at me too long and I wonder if they're noticing my being underweight. Some people don't watch where they're going and bump into me, some speak so fast that I wouldn't be able to make out what they were saying even if I was a native English speaker.

The walk around the airport to find my host family is excruciating. My legs hurt from being cramped up on the flight all night and I really have to use the restroom. We pass signs for them, but I'm afraid to ask to go, afraid that I'll have to speak English to someone inside of a restroom for whatever reason. Could it be that I'm...insecure? About myself? About my language skills? No. Impossible. I was the most confident person at Konoha High. I've always had top scores and the upmost respect from my peers. I'm just jet lagged. Yeah, that must be it.

Nearly forty minutes of walking around later and Guy points to a large, white poster raised high above the heads of our crowd. In sparkly, blue letters it reads, _Welcome Home Sasuke Uchiha_ and my heart does something unnatural, something it hasn't done since I was a kid. It squeezes, tightens, yearns. I nearly die.

I break through the crowd not a full minute later to see the holders of said heart-paining sign; a tallish man with styled silver hair, but not a wrinkle in sight on his pale face, a slightly tanned man with short brown hair that looks like he's just had sex, and a nicely tanned boy about my age with cornflower blue eyes and tousled sunflower blond hair. I halt in my tracks as our eyes meet and his eyes crinkle with a sunny, smile; he's so attractive it hurts.

Guy coughs by my side and slaps a large hand on my shoulder. I wince.

"Sah-soo-kay, this is-"

"Sasuke," the silver-haired man corrects him. I didn't notice before, but...it looks like he's wearing a mask on his face. Not a full one, of course, but one that covers his moth and just the tip of his straight nose.

Guy frowns, but nods. "Uh, right._ Sa-S-Kay_," (I grimace inwardly), "this fine specimen right here is Kakashi Hatake. He is...professor at your high school...and...of Japanese..." Would it be rude to pull out my English-Japanese dictionary right now?

Guy points to the brown-haired man next. "And this here is Iruka Hatake...he is a very...person, so you should be..." My eye twitches and so does my index finger. Maybe if I were to pull it out on the sly, they won't notice.

Guy then nods to the blond boy. "And this here is Naruto Uzumaki-Hatake. He is in your class and looks forward to being your..." He looks forward to being my friend or brother? Fuck!

Kakashi, Iruka, and Naruto all continue smiling at me. My eyebrows furrow and I smile back. What are they waiting for? Me to fall over and die? And then a light flickers in my head and my eyes grow wide. Ohhh, shit. They expect me to introduce myself. They're waiting on me to say at least three lines of pure English so they won't regret agreeing to host a Japanese foreign exchange student for an entire school year.

I clear my throat and begin, "Eh, hello. My name is Sasuke, as you know. I look forward to a great year with you all." Nailed it.

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><p>The car ride to the Hatake's home is...awkward at best. Kakashi and Iruka argue in the front seat because Kakashi wants to play KPop so I'll feel at home and Iruka wants to play regular pop music so that I don't think they're trying too hard to make me comfortable. Naruto sits beside me in the backseat, his head bent, earphones in, texting furiously away on his phone.<p>

I try to take a deep breath; I inhale the fresh scent of clean leather interior and expensive cologne and exhale my negativity away. Like the author of my only trusted quote, I need to lose myself in order to find myself. Although, I don't think the context of her saying applies to my situation now.

In an attempt to stay calm, I whip out my English-Japanese dictionary and flip to the back of the palm-sized booklet for the phrase section and begin to do what I do best...I study.

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><p>When we get to the Hatake house, it's nothing like I imagined. Of course, I didn't think the Hatakes were poor or anything, but I also didn't expect them to live in an estate as nice as this one. Their home is beige all over with large windows everywhere and designer double doors. It doesn't truly compete to my house back in Japan, but it is damn near close.<p>

As Iruka unlocks the door and leads everyone inside, he says, "We apologize for the mess. The cleaning crew couldn't come in today, but I can assure you that your room is as neat as a butterfly's wings and hasn't been touched since Kashi and I decorated last month." _Thank you God for my dictionary...I think I'm going to name him *Karasu. _

"That's okay," I say in what I hope is a confident voice. "I understand what it's like to...eh..." I spoke to soon. "To be at a clean disadvantage?"

Iruka smiles broadly at me, no doubt having caught my grammatical error. "Right." He reaches for Naruto who is currently unaware of my presence, wrapping his earphones around his shiny iPhone. Everyone here always uses the most up-to-date technology. I was a fool for thinking that bringing my own iPhone would be rude and make me look like a prestigious bastard. For all I knew, my host family was full of them.

Anyways, Iruka says, "Naruto, could you show Sasuke to his room please?"

Our eyes meet again and my heart skips a beat. Naruto raises his chin ever-so-slightly, his blue eyes narrowing just the tiniest bit. "Sure," he says in a hard voice. "Follow me...Sasuke."

Taking a deep breath with my luggage in stow, I do as he says and I follow him.

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><p><strong>And there you have it, chapter one! What did you think? Please review any comments, questions, or concerns you have. Or, if you're just a nice person in general, post some love. Other than that, I'll see you next Thursday!<strong>

**R+F**

Side notes:

*Kutabare means "fuck you" in Japanese, or rather, "curse you."

*Karasu means "raven."


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